Grab Your Lemons
PSATATBOT (Public Service Announcement To All The Bitches Out There): STOP listening to SAD music. Just stop. There is a time and place for everything, but if you are like me, you have used up your allotment of sad (and tissues). Stop crying in your car, in front of your computer, on your Peloton, during your morning walk, while making dinner, on the toilet, in your closet and every other shitty place you have made it rain tears. It’s time to put on a new playlist. Time to bail out your boat (which is sinking because it’s full of your damn tears). Time to turn this ship around and sail for calmer seas/a caribbean island with cocktails, mocktails, cupcakes and cute pool boys! Oh coffee! There needs to be wine and coffee too. Maybe some cheese plates as well.
Anyway, back to my point, you need to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. I DON”T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS! But DO IT! Find a cute fucking pair of boots, buy them, hide the evidence of the purchase from your husband and pull yourself up by those cute-ass straps (note: if your cute new boots don’t have straps then pulling yourself up by your sexy zipper, pointy toe, or chunky heel is totally acceptable) (secondary note: if you’re not a boot kind of a gal and want to go straight to stilletos – also acceptable).
It is time to grab your lemons (not those lemons) give them a good squeeze and make some damn hard lemonade (or club soda with a splash of lemon for the health conscious out there, you do you boo).
Time to follow your dreams! If your dreams involve running away from your family and starting a new life with the cute pool boy who just gave you the eyes – maybe don’t follow that dream. But other dreams, you know, like one day getting eight hours of sleep, or eating carbs without guilt or just drinking a cup of coffee that is actually hot. Simple dreams, ladies, let’s be realistic and dream within our realm of possibility here.
It is your time to shine – like the piece of coal that has been under so much pressure that it turned into a fucking diamond that you are! Side note – I don’t know why, but the idea of a rock being squeezed so much that it turns into a diamond just makes me think of constipation. On another note, I WISH I shat diamonds everytime I had a bout of constipation. Say it with me, “I’d be rich bitch!!!”.
Speaking of shitting diamonds, it is time to shit or get off the pot! Seriously! It is either time to accept a lifetime of endless crap, or time to stand up, wipe your butt and flush away your sorrows with that soiled wad of toilet paper!
Life is like a box of chocolates! You never know what you’re going to get! Tomorrow you could reach in and pull out the fucking cherry cordial! Then again, you could also bite into that coconut shit. Does ANYONE like that crap?! Why do they have to put those rejects in the box anyway?! Well fuck it! Even if you get the coconut SPIT bitch SPIT! Spit that shit out and move on! It’s not worth crying over spilt milk, or crappy chocolates. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and as long as you’re not allergic to coconut, you’re going to live!
This too shall pass! Like a kidney stone or a bad bout of diarrhea!
If the juice isn’t worth the squeeze, well, try putting some gin in it!
If your glass is half empty, flag that pool boy down and have him fill it to the brim, brim, brim!
They say every cloud has a silver lining. I say, march your ass to Tiffany’s and wear that silver lining around your wrist.
Look, am I a motivational speaker, life coach or overall just a person that you want to be in contact with whilst going through a hard time? No! All I’m trying to do is motivate you/myself to move the fuck on. I’ve spent way too much time drowning in my own self pity and it’s not doing my ass or my puffy eyes any good.
If you feel similarly, then bitch, gather up your lemons, your new boots, and that half eaten box of chocolates, queue up your “bad ass bitch” playlist and start paddling your boat to the beat of a new drum! And remember, a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.